


the other side

by blazeofglory



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Pirate, Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-14
Updated: 2018-04-14
Packaged: 2019-04-22 16:35:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14312775
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blazeofglory/pseuds/blazeofglory
Summary: “We have a common cause now,” Jack begins, meeting Kent’s eyes and staring hard. “I thought, perhaps, you and I could… put our differences aside.”“Our differences?” Kent echoes, an incredulous smile on his face. “That’s a very polite way of putting it, don’t you think?”Pirates AU.





	the other side

**Author's Note:**

> VERY heavily influenced by the show Black Sails, but you don't really need to know anything about it to understand this fic!

_I’ve been rereading your story._

_I think it’s about me in a way that might not be flattering, but that’s okay._

_We dream and dream of being seen as we really are and then finally someone looks at us and sees us truly and we fail to measure up._

_Anyway: story received, story included._

_Sometimes you get so close to someone you end up on the other side of them._

—Richard Siken

 

 

 

 

 

Jack is by Kent’s side once more, and Kent does not know if it’s because of fate or bad luck.

It’s funny, in a way, what one gets used to over time—the little things, routines of a sort, the things that seem so normal that one hardly takes notice of them. It used to feel so natural, so _comfortable_ to have Jack at his right hand; Kent became accustomed to Jack’s tall shadow walking side-by-side with his own, sitting across from Kent at his desk, sharing Kent’s bed. 

Long gone are the days when Jack’s presence made Kent feel calm and comfortable. Now, he is on high alert, hyper aware of every little move that Jack makes. Kent watches him with wary eyes, and it feels _strange_ to mistrust the man that Kent once trusted more than anyone else in the world. It feels like Kent should be waking from a bad dream—he should be opening his eyes to meet Jack’s, and Kent should be saying, _I dreamt you betrayed me_ , and Jack should be laughing and saying, _I would never_ , and they should be kissing. 

The last time they had touched, Jack’s knife had been at Kent’s throat.

“What do you want?” Kent asks, just barely holding back a tired sigh. It’s been bad enough to have to be around Jack all day, where does he get off thinking that he can show up on _Kent’s_ ship and bother him at night now too? Is there no reprieve?

It’s one thing to cooperate with Jack in the name of their war, but it’s another thing to actually play nice with him in private. No matter the bad blood between them and their crews, Nassau is _theirs_. Nassau belongs to the pirates and the slaves, and Kent is willing to do just about anything he can to win the island back and free themselves from England’s yoke once and for all. For the first time in a very long time, Jack shares Kent’s goals in this matter, and they _must_ be willing to work together alongside the other captains and crews and former slaves if they want any chance of winning.

 _Still_ , their shared goal in this war doesn’t explain what the fuck Jack is doing on Kent’s ship.

“I thought we should speak,” Jack answers, face and voice frustratingly calm as he sits across from Kent, looking as comfortable in that chair as he always had. Kent finds himself suddenly wishing that he’d thrown that damn chair into the depths of the sea when Jack had left.

“About _what_?”

Jack leans forward, elbows on the desk, and if this were two years ago, Kent would be leaning forward too, ‘til they were breathing the same air, ‘til their lips touched, ‘til they couldn’t tell where one of them ended and the other began. But _now_ , Jack leans forward and Kent leans back in his chair, putting as much distance between them as possible.

“We have a common cause now,” Jack begins, meeting Kent’s eyes and staring hard. Kent suspects those blue eyes are boring right into his very soul, and he wonders what Jack will find there. “I thought, perhaps, you and I could… put our differences aside.”

Kent laughs—a shocked, humorless sound.

“Our differences?” he echoes, an incredulous smile on his face. “That’s a very polite way of putting it, don’t you think?”

Abruptly, Kent stands, almost toppling his chair in the process. He steadies it, hands gripping the wood with white knuckles, and he lifts his eyes slowly to meet Jack’s once more.

“You must think me a fool,” Kent says, quieter now, in the same tone that has cowed many a grown man. “After everything you’ve done, you really think I’ll forgive you just because I’m not actively fighting you anymore?”

Jack looks like he’s about to say something, eyebrows furrowed and mouth opening, but Kent interrupts before he has the chance to speak.

“You betrayed me, Jack,” Kent continues, his voice dropping to a whisper and losing its threatening edge, unable to disguise the raw hurt underneath. He stares down at his desk, at the scattered papers, at the book that Jack once bought him, and he hopes that he can withhold the tears until after Jack has gone. “There’s no putting that aside.”

“I will not apologize,” Jack says, firm, and Kent can’t help it—he looks up and their eyes meet again. Maybe it’s a trick of the light, but Jack looks rather close to tears too, despite his harsh words. “I did what anyone else would have done when forced to choose between two impossible things.” 

“Oh, are you the martyr here?” Kent asks, scoffing and incredulous. “It wasn’t a life or death choice. You chose between loyalty and power.”

Jack sighs loudly, leaning back in the chair in exasperation. 

“I did what I had to do,” he says, a whisper so hushed that it’s almost lost to the crash of the waves against the ship. “I did not want to hurt you, but I saw no other way.”

Kent takes a deep breath, then another, and then very calmly sits back down.

There are a thousand things he wants to say—a thousand things that he’s thought about saying to Jack, the things he’s imagined himself yelling, screaming, things that would make Jack _hurt_ as badly as he hurt Kent. When Jack left, he took all of their treasure and half of Kent’s crew, and that betrayal has always stung, yes, but that’s never been what hurt Kent most of all.

Fuck the treasure and fuck the crew; it was always Jack that Kent wanted most. He thought the feeling had been mutual, but apparently Kent alone had never been enough for Jack.

“You would have killed me,” Kent points out, and the quickly disguised flash of shame on Jack’s face tells him that he’s right. He’s still hurt, he suspects he’ll always be hurt, but he’s still so _angry._ “You—you held a knife to my throat and you fucked me over. You didn’t _have_ to do that, don’t give me all this bullshit. You wanted power and notoriety and it wasn’t fucking enough if it was by my side.” 

“I’m better as a captain than I ever was as your quartermaster,” Jack replies, and that damn defensive edge is back in his voice, as if Kent is the asshole here for hurting Jack’s feelings right now. Jack crosses his arms, glaring across the desk at Kent. “You never saw my potential.” 

“I saw you as my _equal_ ,” Kent protests immediately. “We were partners!”

“It’s already done, Kent. All we can do is move on.”

It takes all of Kent’s self-control not to launch himself across the desk to punch Jack in his stupid face.

“You aren’t apologizing and I’m not forgiving you, so where does that leave us?” Kent asks carefully, voice measured. Under the desk, his hands are curled into fists and his fingernails are digging into his skin hard, but it’s not fucking helping him calm down.

Jack uncrosses his arms, then crosses them again, fidgeting as he thinks. It’s such a familiar quirk, it makes Kent feel reverently fond for a moment, though it’s quickly replaced by a strong sense of anguish. He closes his eyes tight, and thinks, _I want to wake up from this nightmare now_.

When Kent opens his eyes again, nothing has changed.

“I’ve always been willing to do anything for power,” Jack finally says. The flickering lantern casts strange shadows over his face, making him look so much older and more tired than he’d been before everything had gone to shit between them. Jack looks like he hasn’t slept well in years; Kent is sure he must look the same. “It was never a hard choice until I met you.” 

“Is that supposed to make me feel better?”

Jack takes a deep breath and says, “I loved you… and I betrayed you. But I meant it, I never wanted to hurt you.”

“You loved me,” Kent repeats, breathless and quiet. The word _love_ feels foreign on his tongue.

“Yes,” Jack whispers back, no hesitation. “And you loved me too.” 

Kent lets out a shuddering breath, turning away from Jack’s all too knowing eyes and staring out the window, over the dark waters and the distant beach. Unable to lie to Jack, Kent agrees helplessly, “Yes.” 

Though Kent is looking away, he’s still all too focused on Jack, so he hears when Jack stands and walks around the desk; yet, he still startles when he feels a firm hand on his shoulder.

When Kent turns and stands, they’re suddenly very close together. 

What Jack did to Kent should be unforgivable, and it _is_. But Kent sways closer anyways, ‘til they’re finally touching. Kent’s hands rest, tentative, on Jack’s waist, over that expensive leather coat that Kent had stolen for him so many long years ago. It’s soft and familiar under his hands.

In the span of a heartbeat, Jack’s hands are finally back on Kent too, gently holding his face and making Kent look up—Jack is close enough to kiss.

“In less than a week’s time, we will be in battle,” Jack whispers, seriousness etched into every line on his face. They’re both all too aware of everything that they are risking, everything they could stand to lose, and just how poor their odds of winning are. No matter the odds, their war is going to happen; it’s too late to stop it now, even if they wanted to. Jack continues, “I do not intend to die without having kissed you again.” 

Kent’s eyes dart down to Jack’s lips, then back up to his eyes, and he wonders if his thoughts are written all over his face. Does Jack know that Kent still loves him? Does Jack know that Kent knows how bad the odds are that they both survive this war? They’ve both been tempting fate for much too long, and it’s bound to catch up with them soon.

 _I wonder if either of us will live to see a victory_ , Kent thinks, but does not say. Instead, he asks, “Are you going to do it, then?”

Jack’s lips are chapped and he tastes like rum, but the kiss is familiar and _sweet_. Kent feels himself melting into it, pressing as close to Jack as possible, kissing him back soft and gentle until that’s not _enough_ and he bites at Jack’s bottom lip and Jack moans into the kiss.

“Eager?” Kent teases, despite the fact that he’s the one pushing the leather jacket off Jack’s shoulders and untucking his shirt from his tight pants. Jack laughs, and—well, that’s a sound that Kent hasn’t heard in a while, and it makes him smile, and then he just has to kiss Jack again.

It’s not long before Kent is back in his desk chair, naked this time, with Jack kneeling between his knees. Fuck, this view is even better than his memories. Kent laces his fingers through Jack’s long hair, and Jack leans into the touch, a small smile on his face.

In a soft voice, Jack whispers, “I missed you so much.”

Kent strokes Jack’s hair while his heart hammers hard in his chest. He’s always been a clever man, and he knows that this is a bad idea—Jack fucked him over once and Jack could easily do it again. With the delicate balance of their alliance and the looming war, it’s best not to do anything reckless that could jeopardize all their efforts towards saving Nassau.

 _Logically_ , Kent knows all this. He knows that he should push Jack back and tell him to leave.

Instead, Kent spreads his legs and gently guides Jack’s head forward, until Jack is licking eagerly at his hard cock. Kent doesn’t say _I missed you too_ , but he does say, “You better not fucking die, Jack.”

Jack pulls back a little, lips slick with spit, and asks, “You want me alive, Kenny?”

Kent swallows thickly.

“Yeah,” Kent whispers, voice cracking. _Because I love you, despite everything, you fucking asshole._ He forces a cocky smile. “You can’t suck me off when you’re dead.”

**Author's Note:**

> When I first thought of a Black Sails AU, I imagined Kent and Jack as having a Flint/Silver sort of relationship, but then I borrowed some dialogue from a Max/Anne scene, and then I gave Kent some lines that feel very Rackham-esque, so there's a LOT going on here. 
> 
> If there's anything confusing about this fic, please let me know! It's 2am and I just wrote this all in a weird frenzy, so it could be FULL of issues. 
> 
> And as always, please let me know if you liked it!


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